


Tradition in Whispers

by PaxDuane



Series: By Writ and Lips [6]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Babies, Dark fic, Generational Trauma, Good Parent Jango Fett, Hinted Dissociation, Kaminoan culture, Murder, Nonbinary Jango Fett, Other, Parental Guilt, Priest AU, Reactions to trauma, Trauma, aftermath of abuse, clone culture, doing your best under duress, history rhymes not repeats, joy and grief, kind of, mental manipulation, mentioned child abuse, of a child abuser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25093987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxDuane/pseuds/PaxDuane
Summary: Jango Fett didn't expect Boba to be a Priest, let alone for one of their clones to be one. They're delighted, but concerned. As the years go by, the concern grows as the war nears and a trainer Jango had no part in choosing breaks the stability they'd worked hard to build for the clone Priest.They've always known that to be a Priest is a tragedy, but they'd hoped to shield their children from that.
Relationships: Dogma (Star Wars) & Jango Fett
Series: By Writ and Lips [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805827
Comments: 5
Kudos: 60





	Tradition in Whispers

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Discussion, but not depiction, of mental manipulation, duress, child abuse, murder, and suicide.
> 
> Situation one: Jango discusses the circumstances of them accepting the Kamino contract, which include being alone with a Force user (Dooku) who freely manipulated their emotions with the Force and implied threats to Jango's life in which they still would have been the template for the clones even if they were killed in that situation.
> 
> Situation two: While Jango is off-world on a bounty, a new trainer that Jango would not have approved of is hired and assigned to Daysh/Dogma's squad. The trainer proceeds to target Daysh/Dogma verbally among the rest of the squad and with another kind of abuse when he separates him from the squad between lessons. Said kind of abuse is not specified, it's hinted to be a kind of abuse that Jango also experience. Jango, after returning and walking in to a session of the abuse, horses (is somewhat possessed by) Kad Ha'rangir and murders the trainer. Dogma is very traumatized by the situation and Jango has him on suicide watch that night, then encourages him to shield himself from any dangers. Dogma doesn't pick the most (or least!) healthy of the ways to shield.

Boba is two when, for the first time in a while, Hod Ha’ran comes to them alone. Jango didn’t expect, with all of the modifications, that any of their ade besides Boba would inherit the natural inclination of Priesthood. They’re generations removed from the last Fett Priest themself, so it was somewhat of a surprise that Boba even has it. They haven’t been a line in centuries.

But Hod Ha’ran finds them right after they’ve putting Boba down for a nap on a day they don’t have to put the fear of the damn Jetiise in their Alphas, little ones only the equivalent of five hume standard but already miles into learning war. For a moment, they wonder if they could bargain with the Trickster to give their ade true childhoods. But no—if Ka’ra Buir won’t do it, not even the Trickster with his ways around his buir’s laws can do it. And it is those laws, along with a healthy dose of punishment to Jango themself for getting roped into this whole thing.

“Where’s your vode?” they ask, moving to the kitchen to pour a glass of whiskey for the god.

He is practically bouncing in the aether. “Couldn’t care less! Jan’ka, Jan’ka! It’s taken two hundred years, but I’ll have a new Priest.”

Jango jerks their head up. “What family?”

“Yours, of course,” Hod scoffs. “One of the little ones, close to consciousness.”

Jango sets the bottle down and leans heavily against the counter. “One of…” They let out a long breath, then start to laugh. “Yes!” they cheer, grabbing Hod by the tabberds of his Jetii robes and crashing their foreheads together. “Yes!”

Hod whoops in joy too, spinning them around the kitchen. “The ad’ika’s blood already sings to me! I can’t wait to hear their soul. Do you think they’ll be like you were with ori’vod? Or how ori’vod is with Bob’ika?”

Jango laughs until the whisper of wind lets them know that they’ve woken Boba up. Then, they clap Hod on his neck. “Call your vode, call your buir. We’re doing this right!”

Like that, with the clanking of wooden windchimes, Hod is gone. Jango goes to Boba’s room, lifting the little boy (because he’s already firm that he’s a boy) from his bed. “You’re going to be a proper tat,” they tell the boy, watching the grumpiness dissipate so their son can fill the air with squeals of joy.

Jango can’t save all their ade, can barely save the other Alphas as it is, but maybe this is Ka’ra Buir’s way of telling them it will get better.

“Name?” Boba asks, already so smart just from trying catching up with the other Alphas.

Jango pauses, thinks. Like Boba, this child will have a number. Unlike Boba, they will be raised with all their siblings, raised mostly by trainers that Jango has only some control over. Still, this is Hod’s Priest. The child, no matter what, will be clever. “Daysh,” Jango decides. “From Hodayc. Clever.”

Again, Boba squeals.

“I need to call Ba’vodu Ta’ak Rei and Ba’vodu Ihaya Ma,” they tell him, “But you can stay on the couch and wait for the Gods to come.”

“Kad!” Boba cheers, already close with the Deity of War he’ll someday be the Priest of. It helps that these gods tend to interact with their direct priests in equivalent ages, if a little older.

Jango deposits Boba on the couch and heads for his commlink, pulling up the code for Ta’ak Rei first. Ihaya Ma stays under the water, most days. Ta’ak Rei might have to call her. These two are the only ones that Jango knows and will still call Kamino’ade, instead of Kaminiise. They’re too much like sisters to them to lump them together with most of the disturbingly cold scientists.

“I thought you would be taking advantage of Boba’s usual nap,” Ta’ak Rei says when she answers him, not directly looking at the comm in favor of studying the decanting schedule. Perfect.

“Tomorrow’s batch. One of them is a Priest,” they say, half breathless.

 _That_ makes Ta’ak Rei drag her clinical gaze to them. “What?”

“Their god came to me, delighted. Their blood sings.”

The comm image is disturbed by static, then they hear a Kaminii ask Ta’ak “What’s so exciting?”

“Just good news, Taun,” Ta’ak says, sparing half a glance for her fellow scientist. “I will call Ihaya Ma. She will be delighted that there’s another.”

The commcall ends and Jango sets about preparing for the at least four gods that will soon be descending on their little apartment, and then the Kamino’ade. Ka’ra Buir loves the matcha that Ihaya Ma introduced Jango to; around Boba, Kad Ha’rangir will be a child themself and will prefer blue milk; if he deigns show himself, Arasuum will drink ale; Hod Ha’run will drink his whiskey; and Yustbaar will have the spicy xocol that Jango keeps in the cupboards with how much the god of healing spends on Kamino lately. If any of the others, like Nishaka, the Togruta goddess of night and dreams who is close to the Mando’kar’ade, come, their likes are all close to the others. Ihaya Ma might bring her god of genetics, Fe Tokal, who likes the same ale that Arasuum does if only to annoy him. Ta’ak Rei will definitely bring her goddess of the storms, Ap Nei, who Jango has fed an addiction to the same spicy xocol as Yustbaar’s taste.

Blue milk for Boba, matcha for Jango.

Ka’ra Buir arrives first, in the image of the deity of dark peace of the beginning who has matched Jango since childhood with equal fervent adoration. Their hair is of stars, their skin a dusky purple with gold triangles and silver circles dusted across. They wear the clothing of the Ikanii, so they’ve probably come straight from their main extant Temple.

Arasuum arrives next, radiating being put-upon with the feral brightness of his twin sibling in his arms as a child of five. He’s dressed in his heavy red silk robes, but those are quickly exchanged for more mobile armor the moment he realizes that Ka’ra Buir will be sticking him with ade duty.

Kad’ika, as Jango and Ka’ra have dubbed this close-to-Boba version of the deity who first appeared as tat’ka then ad’ika to Jango, makes a Geonosian line right for their Priest, chattering to their parent already about war games.

Hod Ha’run reappears, with Yustbaar and Niskaha under his arms. Soon after, Ihaya Ma with Fe Tokal arrive. Between those two and Ta’ak Rei and Ap Nei, several other gods arrive. Three Chalactan, an Umbaran, two Keldorian, one Cerean, a Karuun, three Twi’lek (all arguing), another Togrutan, a Besalisk, and a few from the hume cultures around the galaxy.

That’s right, Jango realizes, Hod had even reminded them, it had been 200 years since the last Priest of the Trickster God. Mando’ade Priests in general were rare now, had been since the initial exile at the Ruusan Reformation destroyed so many connections to the land and eradicated bloodlines.

The party, with an expectation that the only ones that will be sleeping tonight are Kad’ika and Boba, starts.

The next morning, Jango, Ta’ak Rei, and Ihaya Ma are all keyed up from sleep deprivation and shig when they accost the scientists in charge of the decanting with feral smiles. The gods in attendance have thinned down to only Ka’ra Buir and Hod Ha’ran himself, leaving Arasuum with the two fully rested hellions as punishment for…something.

Whoever the main scientist in charge of this decanting is (Jango hasn’t met her before), she takes the appearance from both of her Priests and the clones’ progenitor with grace and tentative excitement. She’s young and feels warm—Jango can hope for a non-Priest Kamino’ad.

The scientist is bemused, since it’s a batch of CTs, but still answers all of Ihaya Ma’s questions and doesn’t ask anything of the three of them. There’s a group of bleary-eyed little CCs who snap to attention when they see Jango, set to help the decanting process.

Jango is relieved to be the one who finds Daysh’ika. They’re not sure what the bet with Ihaya Ma and Ta’ak Rei over who found the ad’ika first would have cost them, but they’re happy to take the two’s favors. Daysh’ika is a standard clone, which makes their heart ache a little. If the special attention of teaching this one could have been put on one of the ones with more deviations, who are more at risk of gaining the Kaminiise’s ire, it would have been good. Still, they can hear the child’s blood sing already.

Little CC-2224, somewhat clumsy in his movements at only about the equivalent of four, soaks up the approval of being assigned Daysh’ika, with Jango so close. His blood is loud, too, even with him being Force sensitive, which isn’t a common combination. Not Priest loud, but maybe if he has children they will be Priests. Or, if worst comes to worst, it could be amplified. Hod pokes at him a moment and proclaims he sings towards Kad Ha’rangir. Considering the child isn’t nervous about Jango and the Kamino’ade hovering nearby, they’ll agree.

Ka’ra Buir even says, “Oh, he will be glory.” _Kote_.

CC-2224 does fantastic in decanting his very special vod’ika, though he’s confused when Jango takes them and sends him off to his next tube with a smile.

“Su cuy’gar, Daysh,” Jango murmurs. “Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’ad, Daysh Fett.”

Ta’ak Rei takes down their number for Jango’s later use (and her own, probably; she’s already determined to help with Boba’s education as a Priest and Daysh will be no different) and Ihaya Ma goes off to provide cover by chattering.

Jango is taken out of their reverence for the little one by the wounded noise that Hod Ha’ran makes.

“Oh,” the god murmurs. Ka’ra Buir pats him on the back, face carefully blank. “Oh.”

“What is it?” Jango asks, pushing the words through the aether instead of the air.

“We’re…We’re not like Kad and Boba, or Kad and you,” Hod says. “We’re like you and Buir.”

 _Ossik_.

The way a Priest’s soul calls to their god isn’t necessarily about the way their relationship will be in the future. It’s how the god feels about them. Sometimes, the relationship does evolve to the point of reciprocation, and with many types of relationships it naturally falls that way.

Except with relationships like Jango and Ka’ra Buir’s.

Once, when Jango was in their twenties and starting to make a name for themself in bounty hunter circles, when Ka’ra Buir finally came back, the deity admitted they felt like it was a curse.

To be loved by a god meant every tragedy was magnified by the god’s grief. To have a god in love with you seemed to invite more tragedy, more blood, more confusion. Jango couldn’t even claim that, since they started to reciprocate those affections and the two of them began to be more of the family heads of Priests and gods alike, things had stabilized. Not with a war building tension in the galaxy, ready to break like a storm on the backs of Jango’s ade.

So, after Jango hands Daysh’ika off to the scientist in charge, Taun We, they all descend back to the apartment and preemptively mourn. Then, they plan.

“All I can do is be a friend,” Hod murmurs over some spicy xocol leftover from the night before. “I can’t put those expectations on them early.”

Jango and Ka’ra Buir exchange a look. That had been Ka’ra Buir’s plan with Jango, a distant hope that those feelings would change. They both made mistakes in that confusion. Maybe they could keep them from repeating.

“Ta’ak Rei, I’ll need a reason to check on them once a tenday,” Jango says. “Not just education, but…”

Ta’ak Rei huffs her agreement. “Perhaps the Alphas could use some hands-on experience with the babies. There are plenty of things to learn from that kind of caring.” She taps her long fingers on a datapad. “Taun We is in charge of early childhood care; she will help me create a few possible curricula.”

Jango cracks a smile. “Seventeen is already showing signs of needing more hands-on work anyways. I think they’ve lost two minders in the last tenday just from days I’m not there to have him run laps between assignments.”

“I do not understand why so many of them are averse to putting the cadets through physical activity,” Ihaya Ma mutters. “They have been designed to be soldiers—physical activity during all times, especially in times where they’re stuck in one place doing activities even I find mind-numbing, is going to be needed.”

Ta’ak chuckles at that. “You are not the one in charge of the scientists’ schedules. And besides that, whoever came up with the initial order did not think…anything through.”

That makes Ka’ra Buir growl, half predatory feline and half galaxy shaking quake. “Darjetii.”

Ihaya and Ta’ak both freeze.

“What?” Ta’ak asks.

“The person who hired me,” Jango says, guilt threading their words even though there was no way to get out of it after they stepped foot in that room, “Was a man who left the Jedi Order. He had no compunctions with pulling at every emotion I had to try and manipulate me. Like he didn’t have me in a situation where everyone would have just expected Montross and I killed each other.”

Ihaya nods slowly. “I will look into this.”

Boba is four when Daysh is the equivalent, meaning Jango takes to herding the Alphas into that particular batch’s classes until the next growth cycle for their leadership classes. It’s a lot of talking about emotions that they suspect Kal’s Nulls might need but they can’t convince him to let them “babysit”.

Daysh usually gravitates to Boba and Jango, giving Jango the cover to teach the little one, leaning towards masculine but having a remarkable hold on that line that Jango stands on, and Boba both the chants of the gods of Mandalore. They also throw in many of the deities who attended the celebration the night before Daysh was decanted.

Hod hovers, sometimes an adult and sometimes a child the equivalent of the Alphas. Like Kad’ika, Hod’ika is without beskar’gam. He still wears the jetii-like robes, but his pre-lekku tentacles grow wild from his head and his coloration and teeth characteristic of the Taung are on proud display.

When Boba is five and Daysh is six, Ta’ak begins to smuggle him once a tenday to the apartment after lessons, where both her and Jango teach the boys about what it means to be a natural priest.

When Boba is eight and Daysh is twelve, trouble bubbles. Ka’ra Buir and Jango leave for a bounty and, in the month they’re gone, Nala Se hires a Death Watch trainer whose first “soft” assignment is Daysh’s batch. Surprisingly, it is not Ka’ra Buir who makes Jango’s eyes startheft. It is the Kad Ha’rangir that Jango hasn’t seen as an adult since shortly after Boba came into being. Righteous anger at the hurt of someone dear, a vod to their tat’ka and a cyare to their vod’ika and a friend to themself and an ad to their Jan’buir. If it wouldn’t have drawn attention to Tyrannus, Jango would have let them sweep through Nala Se too.

Jango calls in Kal and the Alphas to attend to the rest of Daysh’s squad and make the pertinent investigations into what that chakaar did to anyone else, but they are up late on suicide watch as Daysh shakes against them and Ka’ra Buir argues in the next room to convince Hod Ha’ran to not leave. It’s like a repetition, they realize distantly. Daysh’s best friend and closest vod, a child firmly on the same line as Jango, CT-5835, stays with Boba in the care of Alpha-17’s CC squad. It’s Boba who, later, will reveal that the rest of the two’s squad has started to call Daysh a name based on something the darmanda Death Watch trainer called him.

The next morning, Jango helps Daysh cut his hair and whispers advice—things to keep in mind when people like that trainer are out there. They hate it, telling their verd’ika to hide parts of himself, to agree he belongs to the Republic when he knows that’s not true, to curb his sarcasm and rule dancing so others won’t notice him so easily.

The war is coming, faster than any of them would like, and Hod Ha’ran is not there to protect him.

That’s when, heartbroken, they agree with Daysh’s decision to take that name his squadmates tease him with and use it as a shield. Their clever, tricky Daysh shutters himself under rules and regulations and begins to not react to anything besides his number or that name. He’ll still respond to Daysh for Jango, for Boba, for Ta’ak Rei and Ihaya Ma, for Ka’ra Buir who dotes on him now. But Taun We, who only knew him as Daysh, loses him. CT-5835, who had been confided in towards his name, loses him.

Until it’s safe, there’s only Dogma.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feelings about this one. It was one of the first fics I wrote for this series, actually, so it's being posted waaaay after it was initially written (though I edited it today). 
> 
> I have a lot of opinions both on how Jango was kind of backed into a corner with the clone contract, on how they/he had to separate himself emotionally from the clones for his own sanity, on how he didn't have a support system to stabilize his connection and reaction to the clones. That child did _not_ have a good life. This is the kind of stuff that informs my characterization of Jango.
> 
> I really did set up a lot of parallels and echoes between Jango and Dogma, despite their different personalities. And this fic (actually I did write it like right after the first fic) establishes that baseline. Yes, I know what kind of abuse both of them went through. No I'm not talking about it. It's based on a headcanon for Jango. Doesn't mean I'm happy about it.
> 
> In lighter notes: Baby Dogma! Baby Boba! Baby Cody cameo! Jango is incredibly parental! Jango will protect their ade as much as possible! That's not a lot considering how many of them there are! Got sad again.


End file.
